All These Voices
by Jormus
Summary: Jim was killed in his match against Draal. Those who knew him deal with the fallout. Sequel to "Sorry that I let you down"
1. The Tolling of the Bell

Strickler arrives to the meeting room first and watches as the other teachers slowly file in. Everyone is talking and laughing. They speculate what this meeting is about. It was unscheduled; there had simply been an announcement during the final class period.

Strickler for his part is annoyed. He has things to do. Jim knows about the bridge and has been absent for the past two days. He has no idea what the boy is up to and that puts him on edge. He heaves a sigh and stares at the clock. Principal Levit is late. He was the one who called this meeting; it is only common curtesy that he should be on time. Everyone else is here.

The door opens and the talk quiets down. Levit walks to the front of the room slowly. He's holding a single crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He takes his place and smooths it out before him. Everyone looks at him expectantly. He opens his mouth and then closes it. He presses his hands together, takes a slow breath, and lets it out just as slowly.

"A student has been killed."

The room explodes into shocked chatter.

"Quiet," Levit says and everyone goes completely silent. "The student was James Lake. His friend Tobias Domzalski found him. The cause of death has yet to be determined."

Strickler is in shock. His first thought is Bular but, no, if he had killed the Trollhunter he would have bragged about it. Not to mention they wouldn't have found a body.

"When did this happen?" He hears himself ask faintly.

"Last night," Levit says.

The meeting goes on. The teachers discuss how to inform the students, potential counseling services, and other things Stickler only half listens to. He isn't sure how he feels.

He thinks maybe he should be frustrated. Another variable has been thrown into his plans in the form of a new and unknown Trollhunter. Or perhaps he should be disappointed that all his careful planning on how to deal with Jim is now worthless.

None of those feelings seem to fit.

He drifts through the rest of the day and night on autopilot. He informs Bular of the Trollhunter's demise, which fortunately does not result in any violence toward him. He grades his students' homework and prepares an announcement to make in class. He eats a cold dinner and tries to sleep. He spends the morning running through reports from the Janus Order.

Far too many times he finds himself drifting toward the phone.

He should call Barbara or maybe visit her. They have _something_, so it would be only natural for him to be there to comfort her, expected even, but he can't bring himself to do it. Not when…

Strickler shakes himself out of his thoughts as the students file in. Unsurprisingly Toby is nowhere to be seen. There is none of the usual chatter. The students take their seats quietly as if they can sense something has happened. He waits until the bell rings and then takes a deep breath.

The announcement is met with shock. Most of the students stare blankly, unable to quite comprehend or accept what they've just been told. They are young. It hasn't registered for them yet how quickly a life can end; not one close to them anyway.

A ragged gasp draws Strickler's gaze to the center of the room. Claire Nuñez has her hands pressed to her mouth and tears forming in her eyes. From what he had observed she had been just as drawn to Jim as he was to her. It was a pity that neither of them had acted on it.

Strickler pushes the cap of his favorite pen on with a forceful click. It's far too late for regret now.

He has a job to do.

* * *

**Author note:**

**It felt fitting for this to be a separate work from "Sorry that I let you down", so that one shall remain a oneshot.**

**I'm not quite sure were this story will go, but it wouldn't leave me alone.**

* * *

**Toby and the trolls did try to frame Jim's death as a hit and run, but it remains "undetermined" because despite being "found" on the road, there was not blood on the ground around him and his injuries weren't quite right. The police therefore came to the conclusion he had been moved after he died.**


	2. Leftovers of the Last Supper

**Content Warning: breakdown, hyperventilating, self-blaming**

* * *

The fire alarm going off brings Barbara back to her senses. She lunges forward and turns off the burner. The eggs are an ugly brown and smoking. At least they're not on actually on fire. She stares at them for a solid minute before she breaks down sobbing. Her tears sizzle as they hit the skillet.

(Jim had loved cooking so much…)

She slinks back into the living room leaving the ruined skillet unattended and still smoking in the kitchen but is forced to return to turn off the fire alarm and open a window.

Barbara stares blankly out into the darkness as the smoke wafts outside.

Every time she blinks she sees Jim's cold body. She sees Toby's blank and tearstained face when she and Nancy arrived at the police department.

The police interviewed her that night, but she doubts she was much help. She was in far too much shock at that point.

They will be back to talk to her again.

A homicide…

That's what the police thought it was.

Who would want to kill her son?

She thinks of his kind smile and the way he always takes care of her. He is so kind that sometimes it scares… scared her. She had always been kind of worried someone would take advantage of him.

Was that what had…

She desperately pushes the thought down. The police will be back again to interview her soon and she needs to be at least somewhat together if she wants to help them find out the truth.

Barbara forces herself to go to the fridge to look for leftovers. She opens the door to find it practically stuffed.

Right.

Jim had cooked them a huge dinner before he'd…

"_What is this? A last meal?"_

The plate of shrimp cakes she'd selected slip from her suddenly nerveless fingers. It shatters on the ground. She hardly notices.

"_No matter what happens to me, I would never leave you like that," Jim hesitated for a moment before adding. "At least, well… not by choice."_

Barbara's hands shake.

"No… no. no. no…"

The blood is roaring in her ears and her breath is coming rapidly. Despite that she feels like she's going to pass out from lack of oxygen. The clinical side of her mind knows that it's because she's hyperventilating. She needs to slow her breathing before she passes out.

Images from that last night… From the last time she'd seen her baby alive… keep flickering through her mind. All playing toward one horrifying conclusion:

He'd known.

Jim had known he was going to die and had been saying good-bye.

All the signs were there… How had she not noticed?

Somehow she manages to call the police detective assigned Jim's case. She doesn't know what she says to him but he tells her he's on his way and that she should stay at her house. She stumbles into the living room and collapses onto the couch.

She drops her head into her hands and falls apart.

…

The next thing she's aware of is someone's hand on her back and their voice talking to her steadily and soothingly.

"That's it," they… he says. "Deep breath in. Now out slowly."

She follows his instructions. Slowly Barbara becomes aware that her face is wet. Her chest and throat hurt. Her whole body is shaking and feels overheated.

She looks to her left and sees a man watching her, brows furrowed in concern. He relaxes slightly when she makes eye contact. He's African American. He's wearing neat professional clothing and sports a short beard. Actually, now that her head's a little clearer, she realizes he's the detective she'd talked to last night. He'd told her his name but it had slipped her mind… She hadn't really been in a good state at the time.

She wasn't now either.

She isn't sure she'll ever be.

"Hi," Barbara says shakily.

"Hello, Dr. Lake," He responds.

He pauses, studying her face for a moment, then glances to side. She follows his gaze and sees another officer, a tall, tan, black haired woman, approaching. She's carrying a glass of water which she hands to Barbara.

Barbara takes it in her shaking hands and sips at it. Her lips and throat are parched but the water settles badly in her still-churning stomach. She sets the cup down on the living room table.

"When you called me you said you remembered something important?" The detective begins hesitantly.

Barbara nods. She takes a slow breath to steady herself and tells them everything she can remember.

The officers exchange a look when she's done.

"Is there anything else? Was he acting strange prior to this?" The detective asks. "I know he was involved in that break in at the museum. Have you seen him interacting with anyone suspicious? Or even just unfamiliar?"

Barbara has to take a moment to think about this. Jim has been acting… _off_ for a while now but she isn't really sure when it started. She'd been too busy with work. (Maybe she would have noticed something if she'd been spending time with him, that poisonous part of her mind whispers. If she'd been more attentive; a better mother.) It hadn't really registered for her just how bad it was getting until the museum break in…

Barbara frowns. Something tickles at the edge of her mind.

Now that she thought about it the museum lady… Ms. Nomura wasn't it?... Hadn't she been here That Night? Barbara rubs at her forehead trying to remember. The memories are fuzzy and elusive. Ms. Nomura had come over to talk about community service. They'd been drinking tea and waiting for Jim to come home but Barbara can't remember her leaving…

It clicks.

Barbara's eyes widen and her breathing quickens again.


	3. Scapegoat

Nomura is in a rather testy mood when her doorbell rings. She just got home from the museum and was hoping to spend a little while relaxing before she went back for her night shift.

A small growl crawls up her throat as she stalks toward the entrance. If this is Stricklander, coming to harangue her for not telling him about the fetch, she's going to tear his throat out. The bastard keeps waxing poetic about how they are working for the glory of changeling kind, and a whole bunch more bullshit that she stopped buying centuries ago, but the _minute_ something doesn't go his way he doesn't hesitate to throw his nearest 'comrade' under the bus.

She switches back to human form before looking through the peephole. A blond man in a police uniform is at the door. She feels herself go tense and forces it back down.

When she opens the door the officer holds out piece of paper: A warrant.

"You are under arrest for the suspected murder of James Lake Jr."

She stares at him blankly fighting the urge to laugh incredulously. How incredibly ironic to be arrested for a crime that she planned but failed to commit. She suspects mentioning that would not help her case, so she keeps silent as they lead her away to the police car.

* * *

Detective Scott sits straight in his chair as Tobias Domzalski comes into the room. It's clear from the uncertain way he looks around the room that he doesn't know why he's been called back.

"Sit down, please."

The boy obeys, settling into the chair across from him. Scott takes a moment to study his face. There are dark shadows under his eyes and a redness to them that shows that he has been crying recently. He's far too young to be going through something like this…

Detective Scott straightens in the chair and shoves those thoughts down. He needs to focus.

"Can you describe for me again the events that took place when you and Mr. Lake broke into The Arcadia Oaks Museum?"

Domzalski's head jerks up, brows furrowing, as he stares at Detective Scott.

"Why?"

"I will explain afterward," Detective Scotts says.

He doesn't want to affect Domzalski's story by telling him the investigative team's suspicions.

The teen starts telling the story. It is almost the same as the one in the file. Some variance is to be expected of course do to the nature of human memory.

Or rather Detective Scott might have chalked the variances up to memory if it weren't for the careful way the teenager sometimes pauses and looks away. There are things he's leaving out. That is what the investigative team suspects.

"I have a few more questions."

Domzalski nods for him to go on.

"What was Ms. Nomura doing when you encountered her?"

Domzalski blinks, surprise clear on his face.

"I… um… well… she was taking something out of a box," He says.

"Did you see what it was?" Detective Scott prompts.

"No…" He says slowly. His eyes flicker away when he says it.

Interesting.

"Mr. Domzalski," Detective Scott says firmly. "I need to know exactly what happened."

The teenager's eyes look up into his face studying them. His eyes widen for a moment then narrow.

"Is this about Jim…?"

"I will explain afterward," Detective Scott repeats.

Domzalski frowns and then stares blankly down at his hands. For a moment he is completely silent and still. The veins in his arms clench and he lets out a quiet scoffing laugh.

"I guess it doesn't matter anyway…" He says more to himself than Detective Scott. When he looks up there's something in his expression that the detective can't quite read.

"She came after us… well mostly Jim…"

"_Came after_?"

"Like tried to… you know…" Domzalski draws a line across his throat.

"How exactly?"

"She had some… knives," Domzalski says slowly. From the way his forearms are tensing Detective Scott suspects he's clenching his fists. "She moved really fast but we managed to fend her off… I threw some of the museum artifacts. Then we ran…"

That _does_ line up with the fact that several of the helmets from the Viking exhibit looked like they'd seen recent action.

"And _why_ didn't you say this when we questioned you?"

"I… We… We didn't think you'd believe us if we told the truth," Domzalski says, looking away.

There's resentment in his voice.

Detective Scott sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. There is something still missing from this case but the pieces are beginning to come together.

* * *

Nomura is quietly debating whether she should just transform and break out of the cop car she's riding in the back of. It will definitely make sure everyone believes she murdered James Lake, but well… This whole thing stinks of a set up.

Her lip curls slightly as she runs the pros and cons through her mind.

She doesn't get very far before something _slams_ into the police car sending it rolling off the road like a deranged roller coaster.

When it finally stops the ceiling is much closer than before. She peers at the front and notes that the driver appears to be unconscious. She mentally debates for a moment between staying to keep playing on her innocence or just getting the heck out of here.

She thinks of the impending trial and investigation and the stash of poisons she had unfortunately hidden in her apartment. (Rookie mistake really. Hopefully the order has managed to make those things disappear.)

Yeah… She isn't sticking around.

How to get out though… If she switches to her troll form, Nomura can easily cut through the door, but that would leave suspicious marks. Not to mention that police vehicle has recording equipment that may or may not have been destroyed by the crash.

There is a violent shriek of metal and the door is ripped off its hinges.

Nomura's back hits the wall of the vehicle as she stares at the dark silhouette and glowing red eyes of her boss.

"She's still here," Bular snarls.

"Excellent." Strickler, looking as insufferable as ever in his human form, appears beside the troll.

Bular sniffs the air and abruptly turns to the left. Nomura follows his gaze and meets the wide eyes of the police man. There is a beat of silence before he screams and runs. Bular charges after him. He won't make it far. Nomura turns back to Strickler.

"What's going on?"

"It seems that young Mr. Domzalski has decided to tell the police about your attempted murder of the erstwhile Trollhunter… sans a few details of course," Strickler pulls out his pen to examine it. "Unfortunately that, combined with you drugging the Trollhunter's mother, is creating the basis for a very convincing case that you did indeed murder him."

Lovely.

"Then there's that fact that it seems that the police found a part of the previous nightwatchman that Bular missed when he… disposed of him."

Nomura grimaces.

"So you will be disappearing," Strickler finishes.

"Where will you be transferring me?" Nomura asks.

She is honestly going to miss Arcadia. She has really enjoyed her museum job, but it can't be helped. With the police now suspecting her of _two _murders, they will be investigating more thoroughly. It would not be surprising if they manage to link her to a crime she actually did.

Strickler's eyes glint as he studies her indifferently for a moment. The hair on the back of her neck lifts as she feels hot breath and smells the tang of blood.

"I never said anything about transferring you." Strickler, the hypocrite, shows no sympathy as Nomura transforms and tries to escape.

Bular grabs her. The policeman's blood is dripping from his jaws.

Unlike last time Nomura has no hidden trump card to buy herself a little more time.

She strikes upward with both hooves, catching him in the jaw, but it isn't enough. His claws pin her down and crack her stone skin. Her struggles weaken as she accepts the inevitable.

She's always known that she couldn't run forever. She just thought that she might have a little longer.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

**Nomura was already on thin ice after Jim found out about the bridge, so I figured she probably wouldn't survive one more incident. (Yes, she'd dead now.)**

**Toby has just started heading in a direction.**


End file.
